


Learning From Little Boys

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-09
Updated: 2003-04-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 04:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14783958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: "If boybands is all she's got in store for you, count yourself lucky."





	Learning From Little Boys

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Learning From Little Boys**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** a little Charlie/Zoey, Leo POV (backhandedly angsting over his divorce), songfic, trying to be humorous  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Summary:** "If boybands is all she's got in store for you, count yourself lucky."  
**Spoilers:** War Crimes (post-ep)  
**Disclaimer:** TWW is by Aaron Sorkin, and "Gone" is by (by by) Justin Timberlake  & Wade Robson (I had to look that up.  I usually listen to Nine Inch Nails)  I own none of it.  And it's not fun to sue the so-obviously demented, so don't sue me, please.  
 **Author's Note:** Apologies to any and all NSYNC fans out there.  While I'm at it, apologies to the rest of you, too. 

You know, when I'd first walked in on Charlie and Zoey talking about NSYNC, I thought they were talking about a kitchen appliance.  I don't know, I'm a fifty-mumble year old politician.  I'm supposed to know about a boyband out of Miami?  I'm sorry, but that little thing called helping to run the country precluded me from listening to teen pop all these years.

But I walked in on the two of them talking about that... band.  What do you call a bunch of prettyboys who dance around on stage and sing?  AC/DC is a band.  The Rolling Stones, they're a band.  Even The Beatles were a band - but only after they stopped singing that saccharine-sweet crap.  Hell, even some of these newer kids that Mallory's students listen to are bands.  I couldn't name them if I tried, but if they play instruments, you know, they're bands. 

A bunch of guys in pleather prancing about under flashing lights and colored smoke is not a band.  It's an acid trip.

Where was I?  Oh, yeah.  Zoey, Charlie, boybands, blah blah blah.

It's a hot summer as it is, and today, the air conditioning decided to go out.  Well, none of these windows actually open, so the President, Charlie, Margaret and I decided that we'd keep the connecting doors open between our offices, and keep the door to the portico open in the Oval.  Keep a little air circulation going, right?  Right.  

So, I was walking over to Charlie, to get a file on whatever.  Jed was at a meeting with the leadership over in the Mural Room, so I just went through his office.  Wasn't really paying much attention to anything but the memo in my hands, so when I thought I'd heard Zoey say something about the sink being hot, needless to say, it came as a bit of a surprise to me.

I looked up, and I'm pretty sure the surprise showed on my face in a vaguely comical way.  "Huh?" I said.  

"I said, the guys in NSYNC are hot," she repeated.  Still, I thought she was talking about a kitchen appliance.

I must've still looked confused, because Charlie added,  "It's a band from Miami.  A bunch of guys who sing and stuff."

"And they're hot," Zoey said again.  Man, she must have it bad for 'em.  Kinda felt bad for Charlie.  I mean, Zoey's still young, and she'd never really had a serious boyfriend before Charlie.  She doesn't know what it does to a man's psyche to hear his girlfriend going on and on about a bunch of guys who don't even know she exists.

Well, scratch that.  Pretty sure they know she exists.  That must be even worse, now that I think of it.

"They're hot," I repeated blandly, mostly just to see Charlie squirm a little.  The boy needs to squirm more.  

And then Zoey showed me a picture of those guys, and I immediately regretted continuing the conversation.  "They're *hot*," she said.  Of course they were.  They were wearing pleather.  They must've been sweltering.  

Then she throws out, "Don't you think they're hot?"

Okay.  They're the same age as Zoey, and I'm old enough to be her father.  In fact, I *know* her father, and in case nobody remembers, we're pretty decent friends.  Her asking me if these guys are hot is disturbing.  In fact, her asking me if *anybody* is hot is vaguely disturbing.

"Charlie, you got that thing on the weapons bill?"  I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone: one, get Charlie's mind off the fact that his girlfriend finds someone else to be good-looking, and two, get me out of this conversation about boybands.  Oh, and not to mention the fact that I'd actually originally come into the office looking for the thing on the weapons bill.

He handed it to me, and I figured the conversation was over.  Then, I heard Zoey ask me something.  "Huh?"  Yeah, I wasn't feeling very verbose at that point.

She probably thought my hearing was finally failing me, after all these years of yelling at people.  "Do you mind if I play something for Charlie?" she repeated.

I chuckled and told her, "I really don't care, as long as they don't suck."

And then she looked at me like I'd grown a second head.  "You can't say 'suck'!" she balked.  "You're the same age as my dad, almost!"

"Make me feel loved, why don't you," I quipped, going back to my office.

//There's a thousand words that I could say To make you come home Seems so long ago you walked away Left me alone And I remember what you said to me You were acting so strange And maybe I was too blind to see That you needed a change//

Like I'd said, the doors are open.  Zoey isn't really playing whatever it is all that loudly, but I hear it in my office anyway.  I'm *trying* to work.  I really am.  

//Was it something I said To make you turn away? To make you walk out and leave me cold If I could just find a way To make it so that you were right here Right now... //

But when a kid who sounds to be about fifteen years old is singing, "Seems so long ago you walked away, and left me alone," it's kind of hard to concentrate.  You're a kid, Mister NSYNC.  How long ago could it have been, really?  And what do you know about lost love anyway, little man?  I had a thirty year *marriage*.  I bet those kids don't even have thirty years of voting rights between the five of 'em.  

A thirty year marriage.  Gone.  Those boys got nothin' on me.

//I've been sitting here Can't get you off my mind (get you off my mind) I try my best to be a man and be strong I drove myself insane Wishing I could touch your face (touch your face) But the truth remains //

Those guys really get high up there in the notes, don't they?  That's just not natural.  It can't be.  I don't know too many women who could get their voices that high.  It's just not natural.  And what was he talking about, "I've tried so hard to be a man and be strong"?  He's got no idea.  Waking up, thinking she'd be there, next to me.  That kid's got no idea how hard it actually is to try to be strong.  His idea of "strong" is probably holding it in long enough to get to a bathroom so that mommy doesn't put him back in diapers.

//You're gone...  You're gone... Baby you're gone Girl you're gone... baby girl You're gone You're gone... You're... //

And stop it with the high notes!  It's just not natural!  Also, "baby girl"?  Please.  That's what I call my daughter, not my wife.  Ex-wife.  Whatever.

//Now I don't wanna make excuses baby Won't change the fact that you're gone But if there's something that I could do Won't you please let me know The time is passing so slowly now Guess that's my life without you And maybe I could change my everyday But baby I don't want to //

Anyway, I'm trying to get back to work.  Which is damn difficult with those boys wailing in the other office.  Gotta say, Charlie's got a great sound system on that computer, because it really sounds like they're in there, complaining and skipping around.  I can hear the lines quite clearly.  I mean, really, really clearly.  

//So I'll just hang around And find some things to do To take my mind off missing you And I know in my heart You can't say that you don't love me too Please say you do //

What's that one line?  "So I'll just hang around and find some things to do, take my mind off missing you."  I heard it.  Those boys don't know what the hell they're talking about.  Factory-produced lyrics.  AC/DC had some good lyrics.  Led Zeppelin.  And you can't beat Paul Simon.  Those songs weren't generalized.  Those girls had names, like Cecilia.  Girl in *this* damn song could be anybody.

//I've been sitting here (sitting here) Can't get you off my mind (can't get you off my mind) I try my best to be a man and be strong (my best to be a man and be strong) I drove myself insane Wishing I could touch your face (wishing I could touch your face) But the truth remains (truth remains) You're gone //

Shut up, strange little boy with the factory-produced lyrics.  And stop singing about how she's gone.  And you really shouldn't say, "You're gone," six times in a row, it gets bothersome.  You've been dating for, what?  Ten years?  Fifteen?  Probably not even that.  My daughter's older than you, little boy.  These kids know nothing about what they're singing.  Factory-produced.  Generalized, made to fit anyone's situation.  And of course she's gone, you dolt.  You ignore her long enough, put her second to everything else in your life, of course she's gonna leave you.  And let me tell you, there aren't "a thousand words" to bring her back to you.  There aren't any words whatsoever.  Not even, "I'm sorry."  Not even, "I love you."

//What will I do,  
If I can't be with you?  
Tell me where will I turn to  
Baby who would I be?  
Now that we are apart,  
Am I still in your heart?  
Baby why don't you see,  
That I need you here with me?//

Oh, for crying out loud.  She sees what you need, but you screwed up, kid.  You'll never get her off your mind, and it's your own damn fault, so stop begging for her to come back to you.  And of course  
she still loves you, but like you said, you're not willing to change, so staying together would just be painful.  So live with it, because Jenny's just not coming back, no matter how much you miss her, and how sorry you are.

Wow.

Well.  I've really gotta get back to work, and that... music... is distracting.  

Charlie looks like he's in pain listening to it, and Zoey looks evil.  Really, really evil.  You know, every now and again, I forget whose daughter she is, because she's such a sweet girl.  Then I see that evil streak in her, and I know that she's a child of Jed and Abbey Bartlet.

//I've been sitting here (sitting here) Can't get you off my mind (can't get you off my mind) I try my best to be a man and be strong (my best to be a man and be strong) I drove myself insane Wishing I could touch your face (wishing I could touch your face) But the truth remains (truth remains) //

"Zoey, could you lower that a bit?" I ask her.  Nicely, too.  I shouldn't have, because I've got an image to keep up, and asking nicely for things doesn't further said image.

"Is it annoying you?"  There's that bit of evil again.  Devil child.  Of course it's annoying me.  Little boys singing about whatever.  Broken relationships.  Probably written by some fifty-something year old guy who just got divorced.  I could've written that song, if it weren't for the fact that I've got an *actual* job.

//You're gone... You're gone //

Charlie's looking to me to end this madness.  Too bad.  "It's a little loud," I tell Zoey.  "Maybe if you just lower it a little."

Charlie's still looking at me with that damned hangdog expression.  Sorry, kid, every man should know the pain that can be inflicted upon him by his significant other.  And if boybands is all she's got in store for you, count yourself lucky.

//You're gone, You're gone //

"I'll lower it," she sweetly tells me, and I know Charlie wants to kill me for not telling her to turn the damn thing off.  I know what she's doing, and she knows that I know, and he knows that we both know--she's playing with him, testing his patience.  And if he doesn't learn patience with her, then woe be unto him.  So I smile at the two of them, and head back to my office, knowing full well that Charlie's staring daggers into my back.  Sorry, man.  You gotta learn about compromise on the small things, before the big things come around and it becomes too late.  Better you learn it now.

Even if you do learn it from a bunch of pleather-clad little boys with abnormally high voices.  

//You're gone. You're gone... 


End file.
